


Pony

by babyboytroye



Category: Unspecified Fandom
Genre: Angst, Broken Timothèe, Fame can be a scary thing, Hugs, M/M, Protective Armie, Suicidal Thoughts, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-20
Updated: 2018-06-20
Packaged: 2019-05-25 18:04:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14982632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/babyboytroye/pseuds/babyboytroye
Summary: “Pony, Pony, Pony.” Armie whispers into the dark curls he’s resting his chin on. It’s so quiet, only meant for the two of them to hear and nobody else. “My Pony, Pony, Pony.”





	Pony

“Come here.” Armie says fondly while reaching his arms out for Timothèe’s shivering body. Timothèe smiles tiredly while leaning in to the tall, safe body he’s come to know better than his own.

 

He buries his face into Armie’s clammy neck and breathes in his scent. Warm. Safe. Love.

 

“You’re so warm.” His voice is muffled from his mouth pressing into Armie’s shoulder. He doesn’t think Armie understands what he’s saying, so he chooses to lay a gentle kiss on that same spot.

 

“You’re always cold, Pony.”

 

 

Timothèe furrows his dark brows and pulls away slightly to look up at the tall figure in confusion. “Pony?”

 

Armie takes in this moment. The beautiful place that is Crema with his even more beautiful partner. He looks at young boy and saves the image of his youthful, happy face in the back of his mind. He wants to remember this Timothèe. He knows his talent is only going to become more known after this film.

 

He wants to remember him before the storm that is Hollywood.

 

Armie smiles, white teeth peeking through his pink lips and blue eyes warm with love. “Yeah,” He reaches a hand up to bury in Timothèe’s dark curls, “Pony.”

 

* * *

 

“Come here.” Armie requests gently. His strong arms are spread out, ready to catch and hold Timothèe’s shaking body. He tightens his hold once he has the small body in his arms. “Talk to me, Timmy.”

 

All Timothèe can do is let out a loud sob before burying his face deep into Armie’s neck. Armie rests his chin on top of the beautiful, trembling head and surrounds him with his ginormous body, protecting him. “I can’t do this any more.”

 

He tightens his hold slightly, afraid this beautiful boy with the world on his shoulders would disappear into nothing. He prays to whatever God that could hear him that they keep his body safe and healthy, that they just take that weight and throw it onto his own shoulders. “He’s too young, too beautiful.” He thinks solemnly.

 

“Don’t talk like that.” His voice is firm, leaving no room for an argument or disagreement. He’d beat the shit out of anyone who talks badly about his boy. He’d rather die than lay a hand on Timothèe, but he won’t hesitate to shake the boy mercilessly until he realized truly what a gift he was to this world.

 

Timothèe sniffles wetly before pulling his face away from Armie, reaching an unsteady hand out to wipe the tears with the back of his hand. Armie’s heart breaks just a little.

 

“I’m sorry, Armie.” He laughs weakly while looking anywhere but into Armie’s eyes. “I’m just tired is all.”

 

“Define tired.” Armie wants to ask. “Tired as in, ‘I got no sleep last night’ or tired as in, ‘I’m tired of life and I can’t keep going.” He wants to ask, he should have asked.

 

“It’s okay, Pony.” He leans down to press a firm kiss onto Timothèe’s clammy forehead. “It’s okay.”

 

* * *

 

“Don’t tell me to, ‘Come here.’” His voice is aggressive, a voice Armie didn’t recognize. It didn’t belong to the boy he knows as Timothèe.

 

“Please, just talk to me.” Armie reaches a hand out to touch his unsteady body, but the trembling form pulls back roughly. Armie almost falls forward at the suddenness of the movement.

 

“There’s nothing to fucking talk about.” Timothèe spits, reaching a hand up to scratch at his face in frustration. Armie almost screams at the bloody scratches his nails leave behind on his porcelain skin.

 

He closes his eyes and takes a calming breath. He’s reminded of the image of Timothèe back in Crema; happy, healthy, carefree Timothèe. The Timothèe he fell in love with. The Timothèe everyone fell in love with.

 

He wants him back.

 

He needs him back.

 

“Come here.” He tries again, voice low and careful. It’s like talking to a wild, dangerous animal.

 

“A danger to himself.” He decides when Timothèe suddenly grabs the knife on the kitchen counter and holds it against his neck tightly.

 

“Timothèe!” He roars out before tackling the weak body onto the ground. He lets himself sigh in relief when he notices the knife get thrown far from their flailing bodies.

 

“I want to fucking die!” He keeps shouting. His voice is unrecognizable, broken. Armie knows he’ll never be able to get the sound out of his head; it’s something that will haunt him for the rest of his life. Broken.

 

“Let me hold you.” Armie cries weakly, and he lets out a sob when Timothèe lets him. So he holds his beautiful body and takes in the beautiful air that’s being blown into his neck and he just cries. He cries for this broken boy and the beautiful life he’s holding in his unworthy arms. He’s a beauty far too beautiful, far too special for anyone to have the pleasure of knowing.

 

“Pony, Pony, Pony.” Armie whispers into the dark curls he’s resting his chin on. It’s so quiet, only meant for the two of them to hear and nobody else. “My Pony, Pony, Pony.” He feels the body begin to relax in his hold. He can feel Timothèe rest more of his weight onto Armie’s body and just breathe; soothed by the thought of someone loving him so much they’d take his troubles and his stress and put it onto their own shoulders. He wasn’t alone.

**Author's Note:**

> Please let me know if you enjoyed!


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